Prick of the Arrow
by archive-blc
Summary: Rick and Michonne are at the crossroads of their lives. A chance meeting causes their lives to keep intersecting. They must decide if it's all just a coincidence or is fate bringing them together. [Richonne AU]


**A/N** : I wrote and posted this story last year but took it down because I was putting my life together after being hit by a hurricane and knew I didn't have time to write. But I really loved the start of this fic and would like to finish it so I'm putting it back up.

* * *

Michonne groaned as she stepped out of her car into the humidity. It was scorching: a steaming, sweltering heat. She imagined heat vapors rising around her as she slid her debit card into the slot on the gas pump. Even with wearing shorts and a sleeveless, backless shirt, she felt like she had on too many clothes. She secured the nozzle in the gas tank then leaned back against the car. Her locs were hot against her neck. She pulled them into a ponytail and not for the first time contemplated cutting them off. Spring had barely begun and the rising temperatures were already causing her to rethink her decision to move back to Georgia. Though she was a southern girl at heart, the cooler temperatures up north did have their appeal.

The no cell phone usage signs posted on all the gas pumps didn't faze Michonne as she pulled her phone from her pocket when it vibrated twice. She ignored the five unread messages from her agent, but snickered at the text from her cousin, Sasha.

 _Auntie Vi has to leave for the airport soon. She said get your black ass back here with her car._

Michonne shook her head. Her aunt was always one for colorful language. Her fingers sped over the keys on the phone. _Tell her I'm on my way._ She slid the phone back in her pocket and watched the numbers on the gas pump turn over slowly. Everything seemed to be lagging in the heat.

Her gaze wandered over to the storefront of the gas station where a black pick-up truck was the lone vehicle parked out front. A man pulled crates of vegetables from the truck bed and stacked them on the ground. She admired how the veins pulsed in his forearms each time he lifted another crate. The dark jeans and cowboy boots he wore seemed like an odd choice in the afternoon heat, but she liked how the dampness of his white t-shirt made it cling to his impressive back muscles. His up and down motions hypnotized her as the fitted jeans hugged his thighs with each squat. He paused to pull off his baseball cap and wiped at his sweat drenched face. A mass of tangled curls broke free and flopped down on his forehead.

Her eyes traveled from his curls down to his dusty boots and back up again. She wouldn't say he was her type, but she couldn't deny he had a certain appeal to him. An involuntary sound of appreciation escaped her throat as he moved to lift another crate. His head immediately whipped towards her and another sound caught in her throat. He had more than a certain appeal; he was downright handsome with his intense eyes and graying beard. Having been caught staring she turned her head back towards the street, but gambled with another look after a moment. He was smiling at her and she felt heat - not caused from the sun beaming down from overhead - warming up her cheeks. She bit her lip and focused down at her sandals. As confident as she usually was, flirting always brought out rare bouts of shyness.

When she lifted her head, he had sat his last crate on the ground. His gaze flitted to her more than once as he made sure his stack was sturdy. The charming half smile never left his lips. He wiped his hands on his jeans and took a step in her direction just as the store manager walked outside. The curly haired stranger graced her one more smile before giving his attention to the man before him.

Michonne's phone vibrated with another message from Sasha. She took her eyes away from him to type a reply. When she turned her attention back to the store, the men had disappeared inside. The gas pump clicked letting her know the car was full of unleaded. Knowing her aunt was waiting, she hopped into the car and pulled away, giving one last look into the rearview mirror at the store where the curly haired stranger had disappeared into.

* * *

It had been almost a month since Michonne became a permanent visitor at her aunt's house, yet she was still in awe each time she drove down the winding road leading to the residence. It was hard to keep her eyes focused on driving when the ocean waves were crashing against the shore to her right. She thanked whatever deity was in the sky that her aunt retired to Savannah; even with the heat it was a beautiful city.

She smiled as a red Cadillac sped past her on the other side of the street. Visions of her father popped into her head. Other than his wife and daughter, her father's red caddie was his pride and joy. Sunday mornings were for church, but the afternoons were spent with the two of them riding around town, getting ice cream or snow cones while her mom went to visit and gossip with the other church ladies. Michonne would turn her face up to the open sunroof so the rays could lay across her face while her dad told one of his many tales that her mother always swore weren't true. She wiped at her eyes and sighed. It had been close to five years since his heart attack, but she still thought about and missed him every day.

Her aunt's beach house was beautiful to behold. It was painted a shade of blue that matched the ocean with white wrap around porches on both levels. The back of the house looked directly down into the water as it crashed against the rocks.

A set of luggage greeted her in the foyer, and loud laughter traveled from the back of the house. She followed the sounds until she found Sasha and her Aunt Viola in the kitchen sitting at the breakfast nook drinking wine and sharing a platter of cheese.

"It's only one in the afternoon, and you two are already getting inebriated?" Michonne sat next to her aunt and accepted the glass of wine Sasha had already prepared for her.

"Ain't nobody getting inebriated, Michonne." Aunt Viola waved her hand at her niece. "I think this is what the kids call pre-gaming. I want a nice little buzz going on by the time I get off that plane and on to that cruise ship. Tom Joyner here I come!" Vi stood up and her full-figured body moved freely in her sundress and she swung her newly braided hair over her shoulder.

Sasha cracked up and sipped more of her wine. "Don't get too buzzed. You might end up bringing us a new uncle home."

"Not me, child. Unless it's Charlie Wilson I don't need a permanent man. Just a...what you kids call it? A hook-up? Yeah, that's what I'm looking for."

Michonne drained her glass of wine and sat back in her chair. "What would the church elders say if they heard you talking like this," she joked.

Vi rummaged around in her purse until she found her silver make-up bag. She took out her compact and her MAC Ruby Woo to freshen up. "The elders can kiss my, black ass."

"Aunt Vi!" Both Michonne and Sasha exclaimed.

"Girls, please. Don't act like you haven't heard that language before or talk like that yourselves. Remember I practically raised both of y'all every summer. And anyway, everybody knows the best way to get over and a man is to get under him."

Sasha picked at the cheese tray and chuckled. "Mama, used to say you were wild back in the day. I'm seeing that now."

"Both y'alls mama's were wilder than me," Aunt Vi said. "They were the ones living it up in college while I was an old married women with two kids by the time I was twenty."

"Seriously though, Aunt Vi," Michonne said, "It's just a bit strange to hear you talk like that since Uncle Forest only died a year ago. You two always seemed so in love."

Vi leaned against the kitchen island. "We were, sweetie. I didn't mean it like that. I'll miss and love Forest for all the rest of my days. But I went from my mama's house, to the the courthouse, then to my husband's house. I never had time to get to know Viola. To be an independent woman. Forest is gone and both my boys are grown with families of their own. I have nothing holding me back. I'm going to live my best life. And that's what you girls need to be doing instead moping around here about some men."

"Wait, how did he subject on us?" Michonne asked. "I thought we were talking about you."

"And I don't know what you're talking about, Aunt Vi. I'm not moping." Sasha dumped the remnants of the cheese platter and the trash, and sat the tray in the sink.

"Neither am I." Michonne stood across from her aunt on the other side of the island.

Vi clicked her tongue and threw her make-up bag back into her purse. She crooked her finger to beckon Sasha over to her. "Little girl, I practically see the letters BOB written in your eyes with sad little breath and sigh you make around here every five minutes. I know you thought Bob was the love of your life, but someone can't love you if they don't love themselves. Until he gets that drinking under control he's not ready to be who you want him to."

"And you," she turned to Michonne with her finger pointed at her. "You're moping because Mike thinks you're the love of his life, and you feel guilty because you don't believe the same. You can't help what that man is feeling. He's a good man, but if you ain't feeling it, then you just ain't feeling it."

Michonne sighed and crossed her arms around her body. "I know I did the right thing ending it, but I keep thinking about the look on his face when I told him it was over. He was shocked."

"Men often are about these things," Aunt Vi said. "They're not good at reading the writing on the wall."

"I must not be good at that either." Sasha shook her head. "I should have seen the signs with Bob. It's just...it's just so hard, Aunt Vi. I have to stop myself every day from calling and checking on him." Sasha voice trembled with her confession.

"Come here." Aunt Vi wrapped her arm around Sasha and pulled her close. "I know, lady bug. But he's got to fight this one on his own. He doesn't think he has a problem yet. He may have to hit rock bottom before he's ready to face the truth."

Sasha wiped at her eyes. "I can't believe you're still calling me lady bug."

"You're always going to be my lady bug." She pulled Michonne close with her other arm. "And you're always going to be my, butterfly. Now, y'all listen to me and listen good. Both of you are beautiful, black queens. Y'all deserve nothing but the best in life. I always tell y'alls mamas how proud I am of the smarts and independence you both possess. Y'all are everything I wanted to be when I was younger. Y'all are diamonds in this world and I need you both to start acting like it. Don't be out here just existing. Y'all need to live. OK?" Both women nodded. "OK." Vi kissed them both on their foreheads.

"Mama always said you gave the best pep talks," Sasha said.

Vi scoffed. "She would know. I had to give that poor thing a talk every other day. Running up my phone bill calling me collect from her dorm."

Sasha smiled, feeling better. "Yeah, she told me about those days."

"You have everything ready for your trip, Aunt Vi?" Michonne asked.

"Seems like it Got suitcases full of gold and sequins. I going to be front and center when The Gap Band performs tonight." She did a two-step around the island. "I'm ready to electric slide."

"Uh uh, look at you," Sasha laughed. "When are you getting back?"

"In about three weeks. After the cruise, I'm going to go visit your cousin and my grandbabies up in Seattle."

"You're living the jet setter life," Michonne said "Before me and Sasha came to visit you were just in the south of France."

"That's what I've been trying to make you girls see," Aunt Vi hung her purse on her shoulder. "A life needs to be lived."

Two honks in quick succession came from outside. "My cab is here. Now come give me my hugs and some sugar so I can get out of here. You two remember to have some fun and let loose. Michonne don't spend all your time working in your room, but I do want you to get some good writing in."

"Eh, you don't have to worry about that. Inspiration has left me even though the formula for those books are set in stone. Vampires, love, heartbreak, battle, reunion. The teens are going to buy them no matter what."

"I'm not talking about those books. I meant your real stories. How are those coming along?"

Michonne shrugged. "Haven't really worked on them lately."

"Well, get inspired. I expect to read something new from that beautiful brain of yours when I get back."

"I promise I'll try to get something going." Michonne wrapped her arms around the woman, smelling her signature Chanel No. 5. "You're simply the best, Aunt Vi."

Sasha came around and kissed the woman on her cheek. "Better than all the rest."

Aunt Vi started dancing again. "Oh, y'all know that's my song. Now don't go messing up my house while I'm gone. And don't be running in and out leaving my front door open and running up my light bill. Sasha, that sweet, little white girlfriend of yours….what's her name again?"

"I think you mean Maggie."

"Yeah, Maggie. She's a cute little thing. If she comes by tell her she's more than welcome to stay, but make sure she doesn't run up my light bill either."

"Yes ma'am."

She looked at her watch. "I need to be at the airport in less than an hour. Come on girls, help me carry my luggage outside."

A fresh blast of humidity hit them as they stepped outside to an older man with white hair waiting with the trunk open on the cab. He greeted them with a nod and began loading the suitcases.

"He looks like Kenny Rogers." Aunt Vi whispered out of the side of her mouth. "Y'all think that's Kenny Rogers?"

Michonne cradled her head in her hand. "Aunt Vi that is not Kenny Rogers. Now get going before you miss your flight."

"OK, I'm gone." She climbed into the backseat of the cab and blew them kisses. "Bye my sweet girls."

Michonne and Sasha waved as the driver pulled out onto the street. From the open window, they could hear her say, "Oh, no. You need to turn that country mess off. Turn on some Cameo or something."

Sasha looked at Michonne. "That's your aunt."

Michonne put her hands up. "Uh uh. I don't claim her anymore."

* * *

Michonne's laptop sat on the bed beckoning her to finish the last chapter of the serialized novel. She had to turn in the finished manuscript to her agent by the end of the week, but she couldn't yet stomach diving back into that world so she closed the computer. She stripped off her shorts and shirt, shimmied into her favorite her yellow bikini and threw on a white cover-up over the suit.

Her locs were still pulled up in a ponytail. She'd been having a love affair with her hair since college. Those locs were special to her, but the big chop had been on her mind a lot lately. Cutting off locs could be a spiritual experience and she needed something that would help give her a fresh start. She been on the wrong path for so long, she needed to get back right.

Whatever she decided, she knew it wouldn't be that day. She grabbed her phone and headphones and climbed out of her window onto the balcony. The air was still and the waves were small as they crashed against the rocks. The beach was always full on the weekends, but that Tuesday morning only an elderly couple walking their dog could be seen.

Michonne planned to lay out in one of the lounge chairs on the balcony and lose herself in her 90s R&B playlist. But before she could sit, the ebb and flow of the water commanded her attention. A story she read as a girl came to mind. A woman wanted to eradicate herself from past mistakes, so she jumped from the roof of her house into the sea to let the water cleanse her. The balcony wasn't a roof, but as she looked over the railing, she thought it would work. The rocks weren't that large and would be easy to avoid on her way down. At least she hoped so.

Before she could change her mind, she stripped off her cover-up and climbed onto the railing. She blew a kiss to the sky for her father, exhaled, then jumped.

* * *

Rick had changed from his sweat drenched t-shirt into a more presentable buttoned down before his meeting, but he felt like he needed to change again as he walked back out into the hot sun. The humidity hadn't let up as the afternoon wore on. Lori was two steps ahead of him as they made their way to the parking lot. He stood back when they reached her grey station wagon as she looked in her purse for the keys.

"I think I left them –" she started but breathed a sigh of relief. "Nope here they are."

"You never could keep up with your keys," Rick said.

"No. No, I couldn't. How much money did we spend on locksmiths all of these years?"

"Probably enough for us to both retire to Florida."

"I would think so."

Silenced ensued as they were both became lost in their own thoughts. When they realized the minutes were ticking on, their smiles were a mixture of sad nostalgia and strained discomfort at all the mistakes they made.

Lori opened the car door, and threw her purse on the passenger's seat. "Well, I guess that's it."

"Guess so. Officially divorced." Rick squinted and gazed at a spot over her shoulder. The awkwardness that defined the last few years of their marriage hadn't gone away now that they were no longer legally bound to each other. He wasn't sure if they should hug, shake hands, or high five each other.

"Sooo," Lori cleared her throat and smoothed down her skirt. "Carl's baseball game is Friday night, right?"

Rick crossed his arms on his chest and nodded, thankful for a change in subject. They could never go wrong with talking about their son. "Yeah. He's pretty excited about it. Been putting in extra time at the batting cages since that recruiter will be there."

"Right, right. I forgot about that. Is this the one from Tulane or the MLB one?"

"MLB."

Lori shook her head. "I still can't wrap my brain around our son being pursued by all these colleges and the big leagues."

"You're not the only one. We raised quite a kid. At least we got one thing right in our marriage."

Lori smiled. "Married life wasn't the best for us, Rick, but having Carl made every moment worth it."

Rick hung his head down with a slight smile and nodded. "Yeah, he's worth everythang."

She looked at her watch. "I should get going."

He took his car keys out of his pocket. "Yeah me too."

"Hershel still has you doing deliveries today?"

"Nah. I'm done for the day. I need to go by one of the beach houses across town to return a favor."

"Does Shane need rescuing from one of those young twenty somethings he likes to date?"

He chuckled. "Nah. Not this time. An old acquaintance, Mike, asked me to do him a favor. Remember him?"

"Wasn't he the D.A. for the county?"

"Yeah, that's him. He lives up in D.C. now. He did me a favor on an arrest a while back. Always told him I owed him one. He's cashing it in now. His girlfriend is down here visiting her aunt. He asked me to check in with her to make sure she's OK."

"Sounds like an easy enough favor. But does he know you're not with the Sheriff's department anymore?"

Rick scratched at his eyebrow. "Yeah I told him. People knowing that I retired from there doesn't stop them from still treating me like a deputy though."

"People saw you in that uniform for twenty years. They're used to Deputy Grimes." Her had hovered as if she wanted to touch his arm, but he pulled it back after a moment.

"I know. I don't mind still helping people though."

"You never did. It's one of the things I always admired about you. And even resented a little if I'm being truthful." She shook her head and climbed into the car. "But that's water under the bridge now. See you at Carl's game?"

"Yeah. We'll meet you there." Rick watched her drive off before getting into his truck. When he clutched the steering wheel, he noticed for the first time the tan line from his wedding band was completely gone.

* * *

Rick's boots clicked on the pavement as he walked down the sidewalk to the blue house. He always liked coming to the beach neighborhood. Though he wasn't one for lounging in the sand, the sounds of the sea always put his mind at ease. During the bleakest moments of his marriage, he used to park his truck near the water and just lose himself in the sounds.

As he rounded the corner, his peripheral vision caught a body falling from the upstairs balcony into the ocean below. His instincts and adrenaline kicked in. He dashed down the cobblestoned stairs that led to the water and dived in. The body floated to the top as he swam as fast as he could. He reached the body in second, grabbing ahold of the woman's waist, hugging her to his body. He prepared to swim back to shore to give her mouth-to-mouth, but was surprised when he was met with screams and struggles. The woman kicked his shin, and tried to pull away from him. He grabbed her again to keep her from going back under.

"Stop! Help! Get your crazy ass away from me!" She elbowed his chest.

He gasped as he tried to catch his breath from the impact, but he still held on to her tight. "Ma'am, please stop struggling. I'm trying to keep you from drowning."

In a feat of strength, the woman knocked his arms away and turned around to face him. Rick squinted as he recognized her as the woman from the gas station. The woman he had hoped to see again one day. But not like this. She was scowling at him.

"What the hell are you doing?" she yelled.

Rick blinked rapidly to get the water out of his eyes. "I...I saw you jump. I thought you were trying to kill yourself."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was just diving into the water for a swim. You know what people do at the beach." She swung her ponytail back behind her shoulder with such force it flipped around and hit her on the cheek.

Rick raised his hands and splashed water around as he tried to plead his case. "You don't see too many people diving into the ocean from the tops of houses. Drowning was the first thing that came to my mind."

"Well, I wouldn't know what people do around here. I've only got here a few weeks ago."

He cocked his head to the side; his brain clicking as it put the pieces together. "Are you Michonne?"

She pushed away from him and wrapped her arms around her torso. "How do you know my name?" She spit out. Her eyes narrowed. "Aren't you the guy from the gas station with all of the vegetables? Are you stalking me?"

He waved his hands. "No, of course not. I'm Rick Grimes. I used to be a deputy around these parts." The words tumbled out of his mouth. "An old colleague, Mike Givens, asked me to come by and check on his girlfriend. Told me her name's Michonne. He wanted to make sure you were safe."

Michonne loosened the hold she had on herself and floated closer to him. "I guess that seems legit. Sounds like something Mike would do." She sighed.

"I swear I'm no stalker, ma'am."

She scoffed then relaxed her face and laughed. He couldn't help but to smile, relieved that she didn't seem angry at him anymore. "You don't have to call me ma'am. I forgot how much southern manners are encoded in everyone down here."

"Are you from here?"

"Not Savannah, but I was born and raised in Atlanta until I moved to D.C. a decade ago."

Rick nodded. "I can hear a hint of that Georgia accent in your voice."

"You know what they say, you can take the girl out of the south…"

"Always a southern girl at heart." They stood there, floating in the water smiling at each other. His eyes had minds of their own as they roamed down her body admiring how the sun kissed her skin just right and how it popped in the yellow bikini. Their struggle had left the top of her swimsuit in disarray. Her breasts were falling out of the small triangles.

Rick's eyes shot up to the sky. "Umm your swimsuit is falling down." He pointed to the general direction of her chest.

Michonne looked down and her cheeks warmed for the second time that day while in his presence. "Oh." She turned her back to him and adjusted her suit. "Thanks. You're a gentleman _and_ not a stalker. Good combination."

He pushed his wet curls back off his face. "I guess my mama raised me right. I'm just happy you're all right and I don't have to tell Mike I drowned his girlfriend."

She cringed. "I'm not his anything."

"What's that?"

She turned back around with her arms crossed over her chest. "Mike. Me and him aren't together anymore. I haven't answered his calls in a few days. He probably just got worried and sent you over."

Rick nodded slowly. "Oh."

"Yeah."

He cleared his throat. "You know, it's really not the safest thing to jump down over the rocks. Even if you weren't trying to kill yourself, you could of gotten hurt "

"I managed all right."

"You did, but I'm just sayin'."

"I don't make it a practice of being a daredevil, but I'll keep that in mind."

"Good to know."

A medium wave made their bodies bobble in the sea and push them closer together in the waist deep water. Michonne grabbed onto his forearms to keep from tipping over then immediately dropped her hands.

"Either way," he looked down to where her hands had touched him, "I'm glad you're OK. I won't relay any messages to Mike though unless you want me to."

Michonne nodded. "I appreciate that. I'll call him myself and let him know not to send any more deputies out looking for me."

He smiled. "OK. I'm Rick by the way."

She smiled back. "You already said that earlier, Rick Grimes. Back when I was ready to kill you."

"Yeah." He scratched at his eyebrow and chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I did." He held his hand out. "Well, since we already know each other's names, it's nice to meet you, Michonne."

She gripped his hand. "Nice to meet you too."


End file.
